


He Wanted More

by commander_cullywully



Series: This Feels Like Falling in Love AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Oneshot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_cullywully/pseuds/commander_cullywully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern college AU: Response to the sentence prompts an anon sent me on tumblr: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" & "Kiss me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Wanted More

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially a sneak peek into what could easily become a multi-chap for me to start. I just wanted to gauge if this would be something others might be interested in?   
> I'm probably going to do it anyway because ever since I started writing it, I've been really excited. Feel free to let me know what you think!

“I hardly think that _I_ should be the one accompanying you,” Cullen groaned. He was trailing a few feet behind Gwyn as they passed boutique after boutique. Ever since they became friends he had become fairly used to her dragging him off to wherever she pleased—all she had to do to knock on his dorm room and he would follow her off a cliff. Not that that wasn’t where they were heading.

“What else would Master Rutherford have done on this beautiful Friday morning?” She gestured to the clear sky above before matching his pace.  “Let me guess—homework?” She knew him far too well—knew that his extra time when not with her had been strategically divided.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he started to mumble, but Gwyn was already wrapping her arm around his. At a loss for words, he felt electricity seem to surge through him from the very touch of her arm. She paused, a coy smile playing at her lips as she turned to face him.

“You alright, Cullen?” When he didn’t answer right away, her smile turned to a thin line of worry. He stared at her hand, how it was still wrapped around his forearm and lightly touching his bicep. A seemingly innocent touch, yet it was hard for him to reign in the feeling of adoration that rushed through him. Especially with the way she looked at him—blue eyes filled with curiosity, freckles splattered across her cheeks.

“Great. I’m great,” he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. She smiled before pulling him into a nearby store that was filled with shelves of clothing. He felt dumbstruck as he realized she had left his side to scour the shelves. She pulled one dress out, glancing over it quickly before placing it back on the rack. Pursing her lips, she continued this until Cullen approached the opposite side of the rack. “Perhaps you could further explain to me exactly what we’re doing here?”

“You’re helping me,” she grinned, pulling a dress off the rack and folding it over her arm.

“Right,” he murmured. She rounded the corner, stopping in front of him with that mischievous look on her face once more. “Refresh my memory—why did you drag me away from a ten page paper to go shopping?” Her face fell.

“Alright, listen—my mother set me up on a date,” she made a grab for Cullen’s hand as he started to back away. Her small fingers wrapped around his palm and squeezed. “Please don’t go?” He should go back to his apartment—back to his ten page paper that was waiting to be finished on his computer, back to the quiet of his room where he wasn’t feeling so inadequate. The way she was looking at him, her teeth nervously chewing her bottom lip the longer they stood in silence, made him falter.

“This requires me….?” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. It was hard to ignore the impatience that crackled in his mind.

“Because you’re one of the few guys that matter to me.”

“What about Dorian?” Cullen offered.

“He’s with Brennan until tonight. Besides, he’s not you,” Gwyn frowned. Cullen groaned, knowing that this was her way of slowly roping him in. She was good, he’d give her that. “If you really want to go, I understand.”

“Maker’s Breath, Gwyn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly regretting his answer. “Fine,” he growled. She practically beamed as she stood on her toes to press her lips to his cheeks.

“I won’t take long. Plus, I’ll pay you back later!” Retreating to the dressing room, Cullen still felt her kiss burning on his cheek.

Cullen leaned against the wall outside the stall, balling his hands into fists in his pockets every time a shopkeeper approached him to help. _I’m fine,_ he grunted. This was why he avoided Orlais in the first place.

“So, your mother is back to setting you up on dates?” Cullen called, growing tired of the silence.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you know who is it yet?”

“Nope,” Gwyn sighed. “I’m not sure I care to, either. It always seems to end the same—the guy talking about all the good things he’s heard about me and my father’s company, I fake a laugh or two…”

“And….?” Cullen couldn’t help but wonder where those dates left off. It got to the better of him.

“Cullen Rutherford!” She poked out her head from behind the curtain and playfully smacked his arm. “Then, nothing. If I’m being honest, they usually just want a job with my father.”

“Don’t you get tired of that?”

“Of course, I do.” She disappeared behind the curtain once more.

“Then why don’t you tell her to stop?” It seemed obvious to Cullen.

“It keeps my mother distracted, I guess. I mean, if she wasn’t busy with finding me a date, she’d be showing her disappointment in me in other ways.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cullen murmured, settling down in a nearby recliner.

“Maybe so.”

“You’d think she’d want you to be happy on your own terms. Studying astronomy at the University…” Cullen swallowed thickly, “finding someone who makes you happy on your own terms.”  There was a rustling noise from behind the curtain as she exited. She was wearing a sleek black and purple dress that ended just before her knees. She wore a black belt at her waist that made the dress seem to hug her small frame and accentuate every inch of her body. Slack-jawed, Cullen stood up.

“Wait a minute.” She was grinning as she approached him slowly. “Master Rutherford, do I sense a _hint_ of jealousy?” He froze, unable to exhale as she stood in front of him; her bare toes touching the front of his shoes. One of her hands rested on his chest as a playful smile spread across her lips and he could smell the scent of her strawberry soap. Part of him wanted to kiss her there, wanted to grab her arms, push her against the wall, and claim her mouth with his. Instead, he waited—unable to move, unable to form words. Finally, she burst into laughter.

“I’m just kidding.” Cullen’s face softened, but he could already feel heat rising to his face. “C’mon, let’s pay and get out of here.” She immediately slipped on her heels and gathered her clothes to take them to the register, but Cullen remained frozen as she went through the motions. His mind was racing. Did she know? She _had_ to have known. His cheek still felt the ghost of her lips from earlier, his stomach still reeling from the touch of her hands.

 _Do I sense a hint of jealousy?_ Yes, he’d wanted to say. For a moment, he had wanted to tell her that he cared about her, that he wanted her to call him hers. He had wanted to tell her that the nights she wandered across the hall to drink with Dorian, he had wanted to taste her lips. Or how that one night she drank a little too much wine after a failed date and Dorian was out for the night, he had come dangerously close to doing so. She had crooned his name and fell into his chest, laughing raucously. He remembered how she planted kisses on his neck, giggling until he had gently let her down. He didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted her to remember it the next morning. More importantly, he wanted her to want him for real, not because she was upset or drunk.

“Cullen!” He felt his heart pounding in his chest. “There’s a tall cup of hot cocoa calling my name at the coffee shop before I have my date. Are you coming or not, Rutherford?”

“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair, forcing a laugh. As he walked with Gwyn out the door, he forced down that part of him that was left longing for more.

 

* * *

 

                < **Gwyn Trevelyan** > **_Are you going to the party tonight?_**

                The bright light of Cullen’s cellphone mirrored the one of his computer screen. He hadn’t gotten much time to work on the paper, but he was only six pages into it. Adjusting his reading glasses, he let out a groan. A campus party was one of the last things he should go to. Why would Gwyn even be texting him about it anyway? She had a date tonight.

                Like clockwork, his phone buzzed again. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he swiped open the message.

                **< Gwyn> _Rutherford, don’t you dare. It’s the night before fall break—you have to come._**

                He groaned. It was also _just_ the night before most midterm papers were due. Students celebrated by getting hopelessly wasted and avoiding coursework. Sighing, he typed out a response.

                _Don’t you have a date you need to be getting ready for?_ He had barely set down his phone when it buzzed in response.

                **< Gwyn> _I’m meeting him here. Please tell me you’re coming._**

                She couldn’t be serious. Before he could respond, his phone buzzed once more.

                **< Gwyn> _I’ll buy you beer._ ** Another buzz.

                **_Also, I’ll help you with your psych paper afterwards if things go tits up. Promise._**

He carefully considered his options. Worst case scenario: Gwyn left with the guy and his paper remained unfinished while he drank himself into a stupor. Best case: the date would go badly and the paper would get done.

                _Fine. Be there in ten._ He rubbed his face, hoping that he didn’t look too tired. He’d have to change though—that much was clear. Hurriedly, Cullen pulled on a white button up shirt and rolled the sleeves up. After a quick glance in the mirror to check that the product in his hair was still working, he was out the door.

                Campus parties at the University were pretty much the same. Usually the student council—in this case, specifically Gwyn, Josephine, and Dorian—did most of the planning. Though Cullen was only a block or two away from the quad, it was already clear that they had outdone themselves. He could hear the music blasting as well as loud cheers from those in attendance. The closer he got, the more Cullen found the appeal in the solace he left behind in his apartment.

He eyed the crowd, wondering where exactly Gwyn was. Usually, if she was actually attending the events she hosted, she was either dancing or mingling with friends.

“So, you managed to show!” A boisterous voice called out over the music as someone slapped him on the back. Dorian. He stood next to Gwyn’s twin brother, his arm wrapped Brennan’s waist. Dorian took a sip of the glass in his hand.

“Yeah, ten guesses who dragged me out for this.” Cullen scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around behind them.

“Can you blame her? She spent a month planning most of this soiree,” Dorian replied, taking another drink.

“I thought you helped,” Brennan snorted.

“I handled the most important part—the drinks, naturally.”

“Listen, speaking of the party planner—have you seen her?” asked Cullen. He glanced at his phone. 10:15. She had to be around there somewhere.

                “Gwyn? I saw her talking with Josephine,” replied Dorian, shrugging. “Haven’t the foggiest where she disappeared to after that, though.” Of course. Brennan patted Dorian on the back before leaning in close to Cullen.

                “If I see her, I’ll be sure to tell her you were looking for her,” he shouted above the music.

                “Thanks!” He shifted uncomfortably as he looked around the crowd.

                “She says she has a date tonight,” Brennan noted, holding Cullen’s gaze. “But I haven’t seen a guy with her all night, save for her usual friends. Hope she isn’t being stood up.” Cullen felt his heart drop. Shame washed over him as he realized he had silently hoped for the date’s failure. As if on cue, Cullen felt his pocket vibrate.

                **< Gwyn> _Are you here yet?_** He surveyed the crowd once more before responding. _Where are you?_ Minutes passed as he walked the crowd before he finally received a response.

                **< Gwyn> _Help yourself to food and drinks before you come searching for me. (Try the cupcakes with the strawberries on them. They’re from Orlais and they’re literally the best.) I’ll be the one looking up._**

Sure enough, away from the crowd, he could see a figure leaning against a tree as they looked up at the sky. As requested, he gathered two cupcakes from the tables before approaching. Her hair had been curled, creating waves that fell below her shoulders, and she was still wearing the black and purple lace dress from earlier. Heels discarded at her side, she stood barefoot looking up at the night’s sky.

                “There you are,” he grinned, holding out a cupcake.

                “There _you_ are.” She nibbled at the cupcake earnestly as he carefully unwrapped his own. Cullen waited patiently for her to bring up her date.

                “So…” he murmured, glancing up at the sky. “It’s a nice night.”

                “It’s beautiful.” She stared up in silence before wrapping her arm around his. “You can see Equinor right there.” She began to point out the different stars, but Cullen found himself squinting.

                “Where?” She moved behind him, peering over his shoulder before grabbing one of his hands.

                “See that star there? That’s the point of its tail,” she was grinning over at him as she guided him through the constellation. She was so close to him, her arms lined up against his own and her fingers curled around his hand. His heart pounded as she rested her head in the crux of his neck. “Over there is one my personal favorites—Fervenial. They call it the oak. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

                He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. She relinquished the grip on his hand, stepping in front of him. He fisted his hands in his pockets, careful not to move or touch her. She stared at him, eyes too wide, as if she were waiting for some kind of instruction.

                “Where’s your date?” The words spilled out of him, flopping out so quickly that he instantly regretted asking. The words hung in the air between them and Cullen couldn’t keep from looking at her. He waited for her to do something, to say _something_ , but the wait was almost suffocating. Maybe it was the fact she was standing so close to him, or the fact he just wanted to hold her gaze. Maybe it was how he wanted to look at her longer. More. He was close enough to her that he could see the freckles splayed across her shoulders, disappearing under the black lace of her dress.

 She turned her gaze to the side, the scar along her jawline visible. The scar she didn’t talk about, the scar he’d imagined pressing light kisses against.  He wanted to reach out and touch her, wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. Instead, he focused on the space between them. It had to be only ten inches. Maybe fifteen, at most.

“Kiss me.” Her voice was a whisper, somewhat shaky. He almost didn’t hear it. Maybe he didn’t.

                “Excuse me?” He asked, swallowing thickly. One of her hands was reaching for his and, for a moment, he felt like he won something when she flattened the palm of her hand against his. Her eyes remained on his as her fingers became woven with his. This was dream, a cruel one at that. It had to be.

                “Kiss me,” she repeated, louder. Her voice was steady, so sure. There was a brief second where he brought his other hand to her face, his fingers becoming familiar with the groove of her scar, the pad of his thumb brushing over the corner of her lip. She smiled against his palm as he stared at her mouth. Bending slightly, he met her lips with his—soft and warm, the sweetest collision he would ever know. The hand on her face slowly moved to the base of her neck, entangling his fingers in brown curls.

                Previously, Cullen had seen his life as a straight line with a small series of bullet points that made up pivotal moments. One led up to the next, connecting each dot. Yet, kissing Gwyn felt like an explosion. The line was crackling, fizzling there against the urgency of her lips. The moment seemed to blaze like a fire, changing everything in its wake. He smiled against her mouth, unable to completely process the moment.

                She pulled away, his hand still in her hair and his heart still in complete disbelief.

                “That was…nice.” He murmured, breathlessly. He tried to gauge her expression, but felt his heart pound wildly when he couldn’t quite read her mind. “Is this….was that what you wanted?” She laughed, a musical sound that seemed to bounce around his ear drums and blanket his entire body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her forehead touched his.

                “I wouldn’t have made the request otherwise,” she grinned. Her nose brushed against his, their breath mingling in the air between them.

                “I suppose not,” he smiled as her fingers buried themselves in his hair. He closed his eyes, part of him afraid that she would no longer be there, afraid that she was only a passing comet that was burning out.

                “Everything okay?” Her voice was soft—a concerned lilt that lulled Cullen back to reality. He opened his eyes, relief flooding over him as he stared at her, the span of freckles that wrinkled when she grinned, the way her eyes studied him. She was like the sun—one of the most important sources. A magnet of light, warmth, and of majesty he still hadn’t quite become adjusted to. He ran the pad of his thumb across her scar, trailing the grooves of it until she was smiling against his palm once more. He lowered his mouth to hers, rediscovering the familiarity of her lips. It was as simple as that to him—her question fading away as he grinned against her lips. He felt tiny explosions prickling wherever her touch lingered. It was something that might have scared him in the past—too real, too much hope under the weight of her kisses. Instead, it was as welcome as warmth from a fire.

 

                And, Maker, he wanted more.

 


End file.
